


Float

by inexplicifics



Series: Sugar and Spice Bingo [9]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Comfort, Kaer Morhen's Fanon Hot Springs (The Witcher), M/M, Sensory Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29834025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inexplicifics/pseuds/inexplicifics
Summary: After a long year out on the Path, Lambert needs a moment of quiet to let it all go.
Relationships: Eskel/Lambert (The Witcher)
Series: Sugar and Spice Bingo [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2096091
Comments: 16
Kudos: 290
Collections: Sugar and Spice Witcher Bingo





	Float

It’s never safe to relax, out on the Path. If a witcher is in a town, there’s always the possibility - waning, now, with the bard’s songs gaining popularity by the day, but still prevalent - that the townsfolk will decide that they do not want a mutant in their midst; a wise witcher sleeps with one eye open, and never unpacks his bags. If out in the wilderness, of course, there is always the looming possibility of monsters, or of less unnatural threats: bears, wolves, bandits, even bad weather can ruin a witcher’s night.

So all of the Wolves come back to Kaer Morhen at the end of autumn weary in every limb, twitching at every sound, wary of every sudden movement. It takes them all a while to calm down, to realize that they are safe again - that within these walls, nothing will do them harm.

Geralt, the lucky bastard, has been less twitchy these last few years. Lambert wouldn’t have thought a fucking _bard_ would be able to watch a witcher’s back, but apparently he does _something_ , because Geralt actually gets some sleep, out on the Path, actually manages to let his guard down for a little while, here and there. Lambert does not have that sort of luxury. Lambert doesn’t even like to let his guard down _here_ , in Kaer Morhen, with no one around but Geralt and Vesemir and Eskel, none of whom will ever do him true harm.

Well. That’s not strictly true. Later in the winter, he’ll be perfectly happy to join the puppy piles in front of the fire, to nap in the library as Vesemir reads or trade backrubs with Geralt, who has learned a lot from his bard, or just _sleep_ , blessed wonderful sleep, in his own bed with his own scent all over everything and the sheets just as soft as he wants them and no need to wake until he damned well pleases.

But he has to _get_ there, has to get past his own fucking twitchiness, the legacy of another _fucking_ year out on the Path, and there’s only one person he trusts to help with that.

So here he is down in the hot springs, floating in the center of the largest pool. Eskel helped him put the earplugs in, little knobs of wax that conform perfectly to the shape of his ears, and then tied the blindfold into place so carefully, not tugging even a single strand of hair as he settled it into place. It’s thick and heavy, lined with satin so soft it doesn’t feel like _anything_ against Lambert’s skin, and no light can seep through it at all.

He can’t see a fucking thing. All he can hear is the rushing of his own blood in his veins, the slow thumping of his heart far more felt than truly _heard_. The water is blood-warm and utterly still now that he’s stopped moving, and the air is nearly as warm and humid as the water. Eskel is sitting utterly motionless beside the pool, not meditating but as quiet as though he were, and the tiny movements of his breathing don’t disturb the air at all.

It’s as close as Lambert has ever gotten to feeling nothing at all, and it’s _glorious_. It’s - well, it’s peace. No threats, no danger, no need to watch out for anything at all, because Eskel is right there and Eskel has his back; no need to talk, or react, or move, or do anything but just _be_.

He can’t bear it for very long. Every second feels longer, like this; a single heartbeat could take hours, or months, or years for all Lambert can tell. He stays there, floating, utterly relaxed, utterly at peace, until all the tension of months out on the Path has drained away: every foul word, every thrown rock, every monster’s roar, every stab of agony, all of it leeches from him into the warm water, the humid air, the utter stillness of the moment, until there’s nothing left but quiet.

It’s not often quiet, in Lambert’s head. It’s not often peaceful. It’s almost painful, really, to be without the constant need to be on edge, on guard, ready for everything. But it’s a good pain, like peeling away a bandage to reveal new skin covering the wound.

He floats there, silent and still and at peace, until his heartbeat is as slow as the heartbeat of the world, until there’s nothing in his mind but the quiet, like his thoughts have turned into the waters of the hot spring, still and placid as glass. And then, slowly so as not to jostle the quiet, he drops his feet down until he can stand on the smooth stone floor of the hot springs, and reaches up to tug the wax from his ears. Without it, he can hear where Eskel’s slow heart beats, hear the near-silent rhythm of his breathing, and he walks very slowly and quietly across the pool until he’s standing in front of Eskel, chest-deep in the water; he’s moved so gently that the water barely even sloshes against him.

Eskel makes a sound, so quiet it’s barely even real, a hum of acknowledgement, and his hands settle gently on Lambert’s shoulders and then trail very slowly up his neck and the sides of his head until they reach the ties of the blindfold. He unties it slowly and carefully, never letting his fingers or the knots catch in Lambert’s hair, and lifts it away, setting it aside on the stone beside the pool and bringing his hands back to cup Lambert’s face. His hands are so big and so warm.

Lambert opens his eyes slowly, and this, right here, is the start of his winter safety: the sight of Eskel’s crooked, lovely smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sugar & Spice Bingo prompt "Sensory deprivation," and beta'd by the exquisite RoS13!


End file.
